An Ode of the blessed Trinitie

Muse, that art dull and weake,
Opprest with worldly paine,
If strength in thee remaine,
Of things diuine to speake:
Thy thoughts a while from vrgent eares restraine,
And with a cheareful voice thy wonted silence breake.

No cold shall thee benumme,
Nor darknesse taint thy sight;
To thee new heate, new light,
Shall from this obiect come,
Whose praises if thou now wilt sound a right,
My pen shall giue thee leaue hereafter to be dumbe.

Whence shall we then begin
To sing, or write of this,
Where no beginning is?
Or if we enter in,
Where shall we end? The end is endlesse blisse;
Thrice happy we, if well so rich a thread we spinne.

For Thee our strings we touch,
Thou that are Three, and One,
Whose essence though vnknowne,
Beleeu'd is to be such;
To whom what ere we giue, we giue thine owne,
And yet no mortall tongue can giue to thee so much.

See how in vayne we trie
To find some tipe, t' agree
With this great One in Three,
Yet can none such descrie,
If any like, or second were to thee,
Thy hidden nature then were not so deepe and high

Here faile inferiour things,
The Sunne whose heate and light
Make creatures warme and bright,
A feeble shadow brings:
The Sunne shewes to the world his Fathers might,
With glorious raies, from both our fire (the spirit) spring

Now to this toplesse hill,
Let vs ascend more neare,
Yet still within the Spheare
Of our connat'rall skill,
We may behold how in our soules we beare
An vnderstanding pow'r, ioyn'd with effectuall will

We can no higher goe
To search this point diuine;
Here it doth chiefly shine,
This Image must it show:
These steppes as helpes our humble minds incline,
T' embrace those certaine grounds, which from true Faith must flow.

To him these notes direct,
Who not with outward hands,
Nor by his strong commands,
Whence creatures take effect:
While perfectly himselfe he vnderstands,
Begets another selfe, with equall glory deckt.

From these, the Spring of loue,
The holy Ghost proceeds,
Vuho our affection feeds,
Vuith those cleare flames which moue
From that eternall Essence which them breeds,
And strike into our soules, as lightning from aboue.

Stay, stay, Parnassian Girle,
Heere thy descriptions faint,
Thou humane shapes canst paint,
And canst compare to Pearle
Vuhite teeth, and speak of lips which Rubies taint,
Resembling beauteous eies to Orbs that swiftly whirle.

But now thou mayst perceiue
The weakenesse of thy wings;
And that thy noblest strings
To muddy obiects cleaue:
Then praise with humble silence heau'nly things,
And what is more then this, to still deuotion leaue.